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We're almost there, just one last push before it's all over. Part of me wonders how long I could carry on writing a poem a day. Part of me knows it would be better to take some time to edit what I've written over the last few months. All of me knows I'll never be the same, I'm doing a few poetry things in the next month, ending with performing at the launch show of a magazine I've got an article in about the 100 days project and my experiences writing poetry (Square Magazine for anyone who's interested). Here are the last 10 poems I wrote: #77 - The Pretty Ones
Why are the pretty ones always so blue?
Why are the pretty ones always made of glue?
Why do the pretty ones seem to smell of dust?
Why do the pretty ones always seem to rust?
Why are the pretty ones eating apple pie?
Why to the pretty ones always have to die?
I once took a pretty one on an aeroplane
But once she got up there, she seemed to go insane
Why do the pretty ones always break your heart?
I know the actual answers
But I don't know where to start.
#78 - Best Birthing Album In The World Ever (73)
Track 1 - Here She Comes - Bonnie Tyler
Track 2 - Breathe - Lenny Kravitz
Track 3 - Black Hole Sun - Sound Garden
Track 4 - Push It - Salt & Pepper
Track 5 - Don't Look Back In Anger - Oasis
Track 6 - Ain't Too Proud To Beg - Rolling Stones
Track 7 - The Hardest Part - Blondie
Track 8 - Everybody Hurts - REM
Track 9 - A Hard Days Night - The Beatles
Track 10 - Torn - Natalie Umbruglia
Track 11 - Tender - Blur
Track 12 - Sweet Child o' Mine - Guns 'n' Roses
(Followed by the theme to 2001: A Space Odyssey on repeat)
#79 - Mountain Stroll
Walking arm in arm.
No harm in going for a stroll
atop the mountain.
Where the snow-fall glitters
Like a silver thread
Woven 'tween the brush and weed.
Find a patch of fresh white snow
A virgin path we make ourselves
Over gleaming blankets - a sand dune but of ice.
It makes me think of angels
Here
Walking arm in arm
Standing over Aber
Standing over clouds
As the sun, begins to set.
#80 - My Dressing Gown
Sometimes I wear my dressing gown
All day.
I get dressed
But I put my dressing gown back on.
Over my clothes.
Sometimes I forget.
And go out.
To bring in the bin.
Or go to the shops.
I once did the comedy store in Manchester.
In my dressing gown.
It was comfy.
Although it could probably do with being washed some time soon.
#81 - Poorly Cat
The cat's not very well
Vet said nothing much
And charged me forty quid.
I wish he'd eat some food
(The cat - the vet eats plenty)
And have a drink.
Not even salmon tempts him.
I worry
Hope he feels better tomorrow
Back to his normal
Noisy
Grumpy self.
I hope.
#82 - The Boy Who Didn't Cry Wolf
The boy who didn't cry wolf
also got eaten.
The End.
#82(b) - Wedding Cake
We saved the top of our wedding cake.
It may have been our biggest mistake.
We ignored it for years
and amidst our cheers
upon the birth of our first child.
I awoke with a start and a worry
So across to the cot I did hurry
Worse than my fears
Were the small babies tears
As the layer of cake hovered and smiled
The cake became babies best friend.
It seemed there was nothing the cake couldn't mend.
A scuff on the knee.
A scald from the tea.
Until the child hungered... and into her mouth the poor cake was then piled.
#83 - Ice Cream
I don't scream for ice cream.
Well, not any more.
But I do dream of ice cream.
It's what my mouth is for.
I eat it in the Summer.
I eat it in the rain.
I like it in the Winter.
I even eat it when in pain.
When I wish to celebrate -
ice cream - whatever the season
I just begin to masticate.
I don't even really need a reason.
#84 - Tom Jones Is My Dad
Tom Jones is my Dad
And sometimes it is embarrassing.
Sometimes it's not that bad -
I like to watch him dance and sing.
I just wish he could turn the charm down.
Like, when he flirted with Mrs Howell at parents evening.
It was the talk of the entire town.
I can still hear the sound of her suspenders going ping
As she threw her pants in our general direction
And now, at the slightest provocation
She'll give me after school detention
And ask me all about my Dad.
I guess it's all just rather sad.
Still, I hear some awful things from Sting's young lad.
#85 - Am I Welsh?
I live in the valleys
And I tend to talk to strangers.
Am I Welsh?
I hate Welsh stereotypes
Especially the sheep thing.
Am I Welsh?
I don't speak the language
I would quite like to learn though.
Am I Welsh?
My Grandma lived in Conwy
Dad born in LLandudno.
Am I Welsh?
I'm sick of constant snow,
Where did all the rain go?
Am I Welsh?
I love to watch the rugby
I like the bit where the ref says engage (It reminds me of Star-Trek).
Am I Welsh?
I am an adopted Welsh boy
And feel this country loves me
As though I were its own.
Am I Welsh?
#85(b) - Welcome To South Wales
Welcome to South Wales.
Please Keep It.
Tidy.
#86 - Beard Poem No. 3
As I awoke - I knew something was wrong.
I scratched my chin and began to pace.
It didn't take me very long
To realise my beard - was no longer on my face!
My wife gave me a hug and smiled
A knowing grin that got me riled
I found my beard upon the floor
Just behind the bedroom door.
It seemed to me a frightened creature.
It cowered in the corner looking like a pile of ash
I'd named him Friedrich - after Nietzsche.
Even though Nietzsche had a large moustache.
I though - "Well, I grew it, I can fix it too"
And went to the kitchen to get some glue
I stuck it back upon my chin
It's a bit patchy and you can see bits of carpet when I grin.
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